The Thief and the Archaeologist: The Archaeologist
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: Picks up immediately after 'The Thief'. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait, AND the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist? COMPLETE, next is 'Binding Arguments' 2006 Isis Award winner
1. The Aggravation of the Archaeologist

**The Aggravation of the Archaeologist  
**by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Teens  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Gratuitous Tok'ra-bashing, mild sexual innuendo. References to _Looney Tunes_, _MASH, Farscape_, _A Prairie Home Companion, Star Wars,_ and _The Honeymooners_, in that order!  
Episodes: Missing scene for "Avalon, Part One". Contains major spoilers for "Avalon, Part One" and "Prometheus Unbound".  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait,_ and _the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?

* * *

**The Aggravation of the Archaeologist**

_"Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else."_

-- Will Rogers, _Illiterate Digest_

Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell felt like a kid in a candy store. He wasn't the bird that got the worm, nor was he the mouse who'd gotten the cheese... he was the cat who'd caught both the canary _and_ the mouse, just by hanging in there and working hard. So why did he feel suspiciously like the canary and mouse were Tweety Bird and Speedy Gonzales, and he was Sylvester? He'd gotten everything he'd wanted, then had Granny take it all away.

_Wow, _Looney Tunes_ metaphors? Gee, Cam, how 'bout a little more whine with your cheese?_

Ever since the newly-minted General O'Neill had offered him the posting of his choice, Cameron had put all his effort into landing a spot on the premiere front-lines team, SG-1. Wasn't this his chance to join the ranks of living legends? Rub elbows with the lovely and talented Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, the only Air Force officer to blow up a sun? Talk history with the brilliant Doctor Daniel Jackson, the man who had returned from the dead more times than most people changed their motor oil? Engage in a little light sparring with the enigmatic Teal'c, the Jaffa who had overcome over two thousand years of indoctrination to teach his people that the Goa'uld were false gods?

No sooner had he gotten his walking papers--_good pun there, Cam_--from the hospital, than he'd been handed his immediate transfer to Cheyenne Mountain and the SGC. Not just to _join_ SG-1, which would have been fine by him, but to _lead_ SG-1. General O'Neill had actually given him command of the flagship team!

But, oh, what a cruel joke he'd been played! "SG-1" was just two letters and a number without the people who'd made it into an interstellar legend by repeatedly defeating the Goa'uld despite overwhelming odds. To even _pretend_ to lead a team under that same name which didn't include at least _one_ of the original four was just asking for trouble. None were available, though, as General O'Neill had taken the promotion and move to Washington, Sam had switched jobs to lighten her workload and help one of Earth's resident aliens get through a hard time, Daniel had accepted Doctor Elizabeth Weir's offer to join the Atlantis expedition, and Teal'c had resigned his post to help in the formation of the new Jaffa nation. Even Jonas Quinn--the one-time team member from the planet Langara--was up to his eyebrows in politics, research, politics, and _more _politics on his own homeworld.

_At least the mess hall makes really good red Jell-O_, he sighed to himself, dropping his head into his hands and massaging his temples.

"Hey, even the military would have to work really hard to ruin Jell-O," a voice offered.

Startled, he looked up, noting the white lab coat and lack of uniform of one of the SGC's many civilian scientists. "What?"

The dark-haired woman smiled, setting down her tray and offering her hand. "We haven't met, yet. Doctor Carolyn Lam, base CMO. I just got here this morning."

"Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, SG-1," he replied, shaking her hand. He _really_ liked the way that rolled off his tongue. "I didn't realize I said that out loud. I guess I have a bit of a habit of talking to myself."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality... your secret is safe with me," Doctor Lam smiled, grabbing the seat across from him and sitting down. "Now, commenting on Jell-O is one thing, but one of the nurses warned me that joking about the taste of chicken has been strictly forbidden at the SGC."

"Why?"

"She wouldn't say, but did tell me it has something to do with your team," she answered cryptically.

"Oh, no, my 'team' right now is SG-Party-of-One. The _real_ SG-1 flew the coop, and I got stuck with an empty nest."

"Not what you were expecting?"

He laughed shortly. "Not hardly."

"Well, join the club," Doctor Lam answered, swallowing a forkful of something which looked vaguely vegetable-like. "You're not the only one who got handed a big, hefty surprise. Now, I won't go into detail on it, but suffice to say if I'd known who _I_'d be working with, I'd have told General O'Neill where to put his job offer. Instead, I'm locked into two-year contract."

The colonel blinked. "Ouch. Sounds like we both got hood-winked," he agreed. "Jackson's leaving for another galaxy, Teal'c's living on another planet, and nothing short of direct orders from the President or General O'Neill is gonna get Sam Carter back from Area 51. Instead, I gotta pick my new team from scratch."

An SF approached and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Colonel, but you're needed in the 'Gate room."

"Thank you, Airman," Cameron acknowledged, scooping up the last cube of Jell-O. "Duty calls," he smiled to the pretty physician.

"I hope you get the team you want," she replied.

"Well I _am_ an optimistic guy," he called over his shoulder as he dropped his empty dish off on the tray by the door.

Resisting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets and stroll through the halls at a leisurely pace, Cameron took the elevator down to Level 28. He entered the 'Gate room just as the event horizon leapt to life, flushing outward before settling into a gently rippling puddle within the naquadah ring. Then, with a screech of metal, the protective shield shut.

_That is still _too_ cool_, he grinned inwardly. "What's up, sir?"

General Landry, standing at the base of the ramp, looked toward him. "I wanted you here for this. SG-12 sent word five minutes ago... they should be arriving momentarily."

The sergeant Cameron had secretly dubbed Radar O'Reilly announced the reception of the iris deactivation code over the loudspeaker, and the shield ground open, admitting a dark-haired woman walking backwards and two members of SG-12.

The tall woman turned around with a grin. "Well, you all have me surrounded!"

"Welcome to the SGC. I'm General Landry."

"Vala," she replied. "Vala Mal Doran."

_That name sounds familiar, _the colonel thought, but he couldn't place it. In his defense, however, his confusion might have been caused by the woman's uncanny resemblance to a former girlfriend of his.

"Thank you all so much for the lovely greeting party," Vala continued brightly. "We all had a wonderful time searching each other, didn't we boys?" Sergeant Emerson could only shake his head slowly, and Sergeant Klopel looked shell-shocked. Cameron tried not to grin.

"I know we haven't met. That I'm _sure_ I would remember."

Startled, Cameron was grateful the general took care of introducing him. "Nice outfit," he managed by way of recovery, eyeing the stressed leather bodice. Garrison Keiler's voice was coming to mind: _"Her blouse was so tight, I could count her vertebrae from the front side."_ He smirked at the thought. _Just call me Guy Noir, Private Eye..._

Vala twisted. "Thanks!" Brushing past him as though she owned the place, she surveyed the 'Gate room critically while ignoring the weapons trained on her. "While I'd normally be thrilled to have so much testosterone at my disposal, where's my Daniel?"

My_ Daniel? Now, why does she think_-- He cut off that thought abruptly, closing his eyes in sudden realization.

Throughout his recovery and physical therapy, Cameron had kept himself apprised of all missions carried out by his former squadron and the _Prometheus_. He remembered reading the mission report of the abbreviated attempt to reach the Pegasus Galaxy only a few months back, and having felt embarassed for his friends and colleagues aboard the _Prometheus_ for having been so easily routed from their own ship. While he achieved a certain smug satisfaction in knowing that one of his SG-1 heroes had been largely responsible for the ship's relatively safe recovery, the fallout from the failed mission had been extremely nasty and prolonged for his friends among the crew.

"Uh, right," he began. "Why don't you follow me?"

They trailed out of the 'Gate room and up the stairs past the control room. Reaching the briefing room, the beleaguered Sergeant Klopel placed a large metal case on the table before he and Emerson beat a hasty retreat. Cameron grabbed a seat on the opposite side of the table, and within moments, Doctor Jackson arrived. The alien woman grinned widely when he entered the room.

"Okay, where is it?" Daniel asked without preamble.

_Oh, _somebody_'s not happy about having his packing interrupted_, Cameron thought, resisting the almost-insatiable urge to grin in triumph.

Vala was clearly unflappable. "Nice to see you, too. How've you been?"

"The tablet. The one that leads to the incredible buried Ancient treasure?"

"There is no tablet."

Cameron blinked. _What?_

"What?" Daniel echoed aloud.

"I lied... I had to tell you in person," she continued, then lowered her voice to a pseudo-conspiratorial stage-whisper. "I'm pregnant."

_What?_

Without allowing anyone the chance to respond, she continued, "Pretty sure it's yours anyway, there's at least a one in..." she made a face "..._ten_ chance?" She then winked in Cameron's direction.

_What? _The colonel got whiplash from snapping his head back. _Okay, those two getting down and dirty was _not_ in the mission report!_ He just as quickly remembered that the many praises sung of Doctor Jackson also included his almost-saintly nobility, much to the perpetual chagrin of the base's many nurses.

Or so the rumor went, anyway.

_She's pulling our collective legs!_

Apparently, Daniel had had enough, turning to leave the room before being ordered by the departing Landry to take a look at the tablet. Quelling the self-satisfied grin brought about by the archaeologist's palatable frustration, Cameron opened the metal case, allowing Vala to access its contents.

Daniel surveyed the alien text quickly. "Uh... Yep... Don't know where you got this but, uh... you got ripped off." He attempted to return it. "It's complete gibberish."

"It's written in code," Vala protested.

_I agree_, Cameron thought, peering at the tablet over Daniel's shoulder. _It _is _complete gibberish. And I thought _Arabic_ was bad!_

"Well, I can't crack this in a few hours," the linguist pointed out, alluding to his imminent departure for the Pegasus Galaxy.

"I have the cipher."

"Then why do you need me?"

_Probably 'cause you can actually read that stuff?_ He glanced at the dark-haired woman again and instantly recalled yet another little tidbit of SG-1 legend. _Or is it for that same indefinable reason _all_ the female nurses and alien women are out to get you?_ Suddenly, that over-heard piece of lore didn't seem quite as far-fetched now as it had only a few moments earlier.

"Well, reading it is one thing, _understanding_ it is another," Vala pointed out. "The individual I got this from _assured_ me that the treasure it describes is here on Earth. Now, I could have come by ship and looked for it myself, but I know nothing about your fair planet--"

_No, only _exactly_ where to find our Alpha Site, _exactly_ the kind of information that would catch the right kind of attention, and _exactly _which linguist to pick to translate it._ Smothering his smirk, Cameron looked at the tablet again, marvelling at the remarkable similarities between the Ancient writing and chicken-scratch.

"--Other than it seems to have a rather interesting if somewhat limited gene pool," she finished.

_At the risk of repeating myself... What?_ Snapping his head up from the tablet, Cameron looked at the woman, then at Daniel. Blue eyes met blue at the same height, short, unruly brown hair on top... He blinked in surprise--noticing Daniel's own similar reaction--then looked at Vala once more. She was unsuccessfully concealing her own amusement.

"Limited gene pool, right," Daniel said testily. "While I'm sure there are a thousand men in Colorado with similar coloring and build, there are thousands more who look _entirely_ different."

"A thousand?" Vala grinned eagerly. "Is there time to meet them all?"

"No!" Jackson protested, eliciting a pout from his opponent. "I have less than twelve hours before I leave for Atlantis... and it should be pointed out that that was _exactly_ where I was headed the _last_ time you wasted my time on one of your little get-rich-quick schemes!"

"Atlantis? Where's that?"

He put the tablet back in the case. "In a galaxy far, far away."

She brightened. "Really? I've never travelled outside the galaxy before. Can I go with you?"

"No!"

Cameron decided to break it up. "Whoa! Hey! Before this little domestic dispute goes any further, can we take it somewhere _other_ than the briefing room? It's a bit public for a knock-down-drag-out, don't you think?"

"Yes, Daniel, why don't we take this to your chambers?" Vala hinted suggestively.

"My _chambers_ are off-limits and--"

"But your lab isn't," Cameron interrupted. "You've practically emptied it out anyway, why not?"

Daniel scowled at him, clearly conveying his displeasure at having the colonel siding against him. "Other than the fact that she's an unscrupulous thief, a liar, and a notorious cheat?"

Vala fisted her hands on her hips. "Just because I stole the tablet from the blathering idiot who found it, doesn't mean--"

"You _stole_ it?" Cameron asked, hearing Daniel's voice along with his own.

She closed her mouth, narrowing her eyes. "Did I say 'stole'?"

"Yes, you did," the colonel replied.

"Oh." She crossed her arms. "And what makes _you_ think I'm a notorious thief, a liar, and an unscrupulous cheat?"

The archaeologist smirked. "That's 'unscrupulous thief' and 'notorious cheat'... and those are the exact words used by the Tok'ra when describing you."

"Those back-stabbing, self-serving, hypocritical worms!" Vala sulked.

"They are, aren't they?" Daniel replied smugly.

_Wow, better get the Honeymooners moving_, Cameron thought to himself, closing the metal carrying-case with a snap. "Oo-kay! Changing locations, please! Jackson, after you." Gesturing for two of the omnipresent SFs to follow, the strange little troupe of archaeologist, pilot, thief, and guards made their way to the elevator. Squeezing aboard after the doors had finally opened, one of the guards pushed the appropriate floor button to send them all on their way.

"Vala, that's enough," Daniel said after a moment's silence, his face reddening.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"The hand... Move it."

Cameron unsuccessfully stifled a snort as the lift doors opened, the uncomfortable blush all-too-clearly giving the colonel a fair idea where the thief's stray hand had landed. "After you," he offered with a grin.

Daniel got off the elevator, Vala following closely on his heels. "Ah! Back between the guards!" he cried, clearly still embarrassed by her proximity.

_The lady's got you rattled, Jackson_, Cameron grinned to himself, enjoying the spectacle. Somehow, seeing one of the legendary heroes of the original SG-1 so visibly flustered made him seem more human. Of course, having never been pursued as vigorously as Vala was chasing Daniel, he couldn't _relate_ to the circumstance, but he could certainly understand it... and, more importantly, enjoy it at the archaeologist's expense.

They reached the box-cluttered lab, the two SFs taking up positions at the door as Cameron swung the tablet's case up unto the cleared-off table. "All right!" he grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Let's find out where the pirates hid the booty."

Daniel took a big step away from Vala as she opened her mouth to say something. "Not _that_ kind of booty," he gulped, giving her a glare made less scathing by the flush coloring his cheeks. Her answering grin proved he _had_ guessed in what direction her next comment was going to go, and the colonel found himself stifling a laugh.

As though sensing Cameron's amusement, Daniel's gaze snapped to the colonel. "Don't you have personnel files to review?"

"There's still a spot on my team for a multi-lingual archaeologist who knows how to handle a P-90," he grinned. "Know anybody?"

"Give our planet's 'limited gene pool', I'm sure you can find _somebody_... I'll even give you a few recommendations."

Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm just thinkin' you kids need a chaperone."

Clearly not amused, Daniel jerked his thumb toward the guards. "Chaperones, we have. We don't need an audience."

"All right! I can tell when I'm not wanted. Just let me know when you've solved the mystery, will ya?" At Daniel's hesitant nod, Cameron spun about and headed for the door. Pausing just outside the lab, he turned back with a grin. "Hey, Jackson! Have her back before midnight, will ya?"

Vala grinned wickedly as Daniel's mouth opened and closed without a sound. Feeling terribly pleased with himself, Cameron began the leisurely stroll through the halls he'd wanted earlier. Making a slow circuit of the level housing the archaeology labs, he hadn't gotten even half-way around when he began to feel a little remorseful for the way he'd treated Daniel. After all, it was hardly the linguist's fault O'Neill had deliberately misled Cameron about the status of SG-1, and riling him to get back at the general was petty and childish. Heaving a sigh, he passed the elevator and stairwell, making his way back to Daniel's lab.

"Locking me up's not going to do any good," protested the already-familiar voice of the thief. "I'll take it off when you give me what _I_ want!"

_Oh, that _really_ doesn't sound PG_, Cameron grinned, all thoughts of apologizing for his behavior disappearing.

"Well, you can just forget about it, then! I don't do _anything_ under coercion, and I'm sure--"

"I'm asking for just _one_ favor, not for you to bow down to my every whim... though if you _wanted_ to--"

Cameron peered around the door frame, finding Daniel and Vala arguing nose-to-nose, the SFs having restrained Vala by her arms. "I can't leave you two alone, can I?"

"Apparently not," Daniel agreed hotly, using the interruption as an excuse to step back. "Vala's just proven she requires _constant_ supervision." He rubbed at his right wrist, addressing the guards. "Put her in a holding cell until _she's_ willing to cooperate."

"Yes, Doctor Jackson," the ranking SF acknowledged, hauling the protesting woman out of the lab.

"What was _that_ about?"

Daniel sighed, dropping his glasses on the counter before him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he held out his right arm. "Apparently, she's decided I need some motivation to find her treasure."

Cameron peered at the bracelet. "Pretty. What is it?"

"She said it had something to do with the Egyptian sky goddess and marriage ceremonies, or something. There aren't any words on it, but it's clearly of Goa'uld design. Whether they actually 'link' the wearers together or not, I'm _not_ wearing this thing to the Pegasus Galaxy." Putting his glasses back on and brushing past Cameron, he headed for the door. "I'm going to see if Doctor Lee has any ideas about how to get it off."

The colonel suddenly remembered why he'd returned to the lab. "Hey, Jackson? Look, about the way I've been acting? I'm sorry if I've been taking out some of my irritation with General O'Neill on you. It's hardly _your_ fault he didn't tell me you, Sam, and Teal'c were leaving, right?"

Daniel sighed. "It's all right, Mitchell. Actually, if _Jack_ were here, he'd be teasing me unmercifully about Vala every chance he got." He shrugged. "I think the only reason he _didn't_ run it into the ground the last time, was 'cause of the Replicator-double incident with Sam." He grinned. "His sense of humor is both the best thing _and_ the worst thing about working with Jack."

"So we're okay?"

"We're okay." He pointed his right thumb over his shoulder, and simultaneously indicated the bracelet with the forefinger of the other hand. "Now I'm going to go see if Bill can get this thing off."

"Right," Cameron acknowledged, joining Daniel on the short walk back to the elevator. "Just because the Goa'uld have been defeated doesn't mean there's not still _lots_ to do in this galaxy... and I'd feel a lot better knowing I had the best people backing me up out there."

"I appreciate it, Mitchell, I really do. It's just that I spent a year that I don't remember living among the Ancients, and if I have to go outside of this galaxy to get the answers I'm looking for, so be it."

"Oh, so it's personal, then?"

"A bit," Daniel agreed, stepping into the elevator. "You coming?"

"I'll take the stairs. Need the exercise."

"Right."

Cameron's mischievous nature got the better of him, though, and as the doors shut he called, "Hey, Jackson! Does this mean you two are goin' steady?"

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Big thanks to the lovely people at www (dot) moon-catchin (dot) net for the episode transcripts for season nine. You made my work SO much easier.  
Bigger thanks to everyone who wanted more.


	2. The Adversity of the Archaeologist

**The Adversity of the Archaeologist  
**by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Teens  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: None, for once, as Vala's unconscious and isn't causing too much trouble.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "Avalon, Part One". Minor spoilers for "Avalon, Part One", "Avenger 2.0" and "Prometheus Unbound", as well as "Nemesis", "Need", "Hathor", "Meridian" and various other Danny-whumping episodes.  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait,_ and _the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?  
Notes: It should be noted that the title of this portion of the series is "The Archaeologist". They're gonna be Daniel-centric in much the same way that "The Thief" tales were Vala-centric. But don't worry. She's still be in 'em.

* * *

**The Adversity of the Archaeologist**

"_A cunning gamester never plays the card which his  
__adversary expects, and far less that which he desires_."  
--Baltasar Gracian, _The Oracle_

_So many physicals, so little time! _Doctor Carolyn Lam smiled to herself wryly as she filled in the SF's chart. _The planet's finest soldiers and half of them have an aversion to needles!_

Of course, she _had_ heard rumors about a certain Nurse Clark who apparently really, _really_ liked needles, but Clark had been gone from the SGC for a few years now. Come to think of it, only three nurses of the entire staff had been at the SGC for longer than a year, but those three women managed to keep the base rumor mill circulating without a hitch, and had even roped some of the newer staff into helping. At the very moment, in fact, Nurses Rosenbaum and Henessy (four years and two months, respectively) were embroiled in an apparently amusing discussion with a member of SG-7, involving a pair of Marines and an alien at the Alpha Site.

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "Of all the places to run a rumor mill," she muttered, turning the page of the chart.

"Ma'am?" questioned the airman.

"Just talking to myself, Matt," she answered with a smile. "I'm thinking about the logistics involved in circulating a rumor mill of the magnitude of the one at this command."

"Very simple, ma'am," answered Sergeant Thurman. "All military personnel on base come to the infirmary at least once every two months, SG teams every week. People need something to talk about while suffer--um, going through a routine exam."

"And so they gossip," Carolyn finished.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What about the civilians? They're required physicals only once a year."

"Yes, ma'am, but some of them go off-world or are on field teams. Some of 'em are just accident prone. Sometimes both, ma'am."

"Both?" she asked, setting his chart aside.

"Yes, ma'am. Take Doctor Jackson, for example. Why, I've heard that--"

She waved him off with a hand. "I've probably heard it already. Seems like he's all my nurses can talk about half the time, and the Marines are just as bad!"

Thurman grinned. "We're all gonna miss him around here, ma'am."

"Nothing to talk about, huh?" There was a flurry of activity near the door as two orderlies and Doctor Stevens grabbed a stretcher and a kit and raced out of the infirmary. Surprised that she hadn't heard the notification of Stargate activation, Carolyn looked questioningly toward Rosenbaum. "Liz, did I miss something?"

"Medical emergency in the science labs, ma'am," the nurse explained.

"Ten bucks says Felger blew something up again," grinned a Marine currently under examination by Nurse Haycraft.

"No, power didn't go out," Haycraft answered, shining her penlight into one of his eyes.

Carolyn snorted. _General O'Neill _did _say this place was exciting._

"Twenty says it's Doctor Jackson," Rosenbaum smiled.

"No bet!" three airmen, two Marines, and a pair of nurses shouted.

Despite herself, Carolyn laughed. "Everyone keeps telling me what a trouble magnet he is. Seriously, _one _guy?"

The Marine, Captain Grise, nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Take every four-eyed, sneezing, clumsy geek you ever beat up--er, _bumped into _in high school, mix it with the weird college professor whose class you really loved but never understood, and pour it all together into a hybrid Ken doll/GI Joe action figure, and you've got Doctor Daniel Jackson."

The doctor blinked in confusion. "Okay, that made _no_ sense."

"That's Doctor Jackson," chorused the trio of nurses, who then dissolved into laughter.

"This isn't just the base rumor mill, ma'am," continued Thurman with a smile. "Nurse Logan runs the betting pool."

Sergeant Brooks of SG-7 nodded. "I've got twenty bucks on the current bid."

"Which is?" Carolyn asked.

"What's gonna keep Doctor Jackson from reaching Atlantis _this_ time, of course," Grise grinned. "I have ten on the _Daedalus_ getting hijacked. That's what brought the _Prometheus_ back, last time."

"Yeah, but Jackson's like lightning, the same thing doesn't strike twice," retorted Brooks as Henessy pulled the curtains closed around his bed. "My money's on him coming down with some weird alien disease before he even gets _aboard_ the _Daedalus._"

"Same here, but mine's _tonsilitis_," Haycraft laughed. "Hey, if an emergency appendectomy can pull him off rotation..."

Carolyn crossed her arms. "That's horrible! You're taking bets on what kind of misfortune will strike him next?"

"None of us take bets on anything _really_ bad, ma'am," answered Brooks from behind his curtain. "Ow. Like you said, he's a trouble magnet, but we wouldn't have him any other way. Ow!"

"Then hold still," said Henessy sweetly.

"He's like the base good luck charm," added Grise, smirking toward the enclosure. "Nothin' kills the guy. Well, not _permanently_, anyway."

"Is that a joke?" Carolyn frowned.

"Fortunately, no."

Thurman nodded. "Timex Jackson, Lazarus Jackson, Energizer Jackson--"

"Highlander Jackson, Replay Jackson, Dead-Again Daniel..." grinned Grise.

"The list goes on, ma'am," Thurman finished. "But nobody loses even if nothing happens."

"It's a fifty-fifty pool, ma'am," Rosenbaum explained, pulling off her gloves with a snap. "If Doctor Jackson actually _makes it_ to Atlantis, all proceeds of the betting pool go to the base 'widows and orphans' fund. If he doesn't, then _half _goes to the winners, and half to the fund. If more than one person gets it right, the size of the bet is the determining factor in how the remaining half of the pot is split."

_That's a really great way to raise money for a charity! _Carolyn thought in amazement. "In that case, put me down for twenty: diverted by an alien woman." She grinned at their incredulous expressions. "I _do_ read the mission reports, you know. Hathor, Shyla, the _Prometheus_ hijacker? Not to mention Oma Desala."

Rosenbaum laughed. "Twenty it is, then, I'll tell Carrie."

Carolyn had just turned to dismiss Sergeant Thurman when Doctor Stevens voice sounded out in the hall, shouting for a clear path. Back to being all business, she grabbed a fresh pair of gloves and met the gurney at the door.

It was carrying Doctor Jackson, of course. Sighing inwardly, she asked, "What've we got, Jeremy?"

"He collapsed in the hall just outside of Doctor Lee's laboratory," Stevens explained. "He's unresponsive. Pulse is erratic, respirations are shallow. I've given him epinephrine, but he's only gotten worse." He grabbed for the golden bracelet adorning Daniel's left wrist as the gurney came to a stop. "Chances are good, _this_ has something to do with it."

Carolyn and the medical team got to work getting the archaeologist moved to a bed and hooked up to the many tubes, wires, and monitors of their trade. No sooner had she flipped the switch on the EKG, then Stevens and his response team were called away again, this time to one of the holding cells. Minutes later, they returned with an unconscious dark-haired woman dressed like a _Catwoman_ reject. _And surprise of all surprises, she has a bracelet, too_, the doctor sighed.

The two patients stabilized soon after that, but Carolyn was inwardly pleased that Colonel Mitchell thought to go ask the Jaffa Teal'c for information on the jewelry pieces which stubbornly refused to be removed. As she sat beside Daniel's bed, she mentally formed a theory regarding the bracelets, and the strong possibility that a physiological link existed between the two wearers.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Who bet on an alien bracelet?"

"No one, ma'am," answered Carrie Logan, who'd just arrived for her duty shift. "But I did have a twenty-dollar bet for 'trapped by an alien artifact', which qualifies in _my_ book, and so does your wager on the alien woman." She glanced at the wall clock. "Only nine hours left before the boat leaves, ma'am, and you'll be splitting the pot if he's still here."

"He's not going anywhere as long as that bracelet is attached," Carolyn sighed. "Looks like the betting pool wins again, Doctor Jackson loses."

Logan grinned. "Not entirely, ma'am. _He_ placed the bet on the alien artifact."

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Okay, so there was very little Vala in this one. But this was HARD! I mean, write about the two of them unconscious and from an outward perspective but still put some humor in it?  
Sigh  
If the next chapter's this difficult, I may just skip ahead to "The Ties that Bind" and come back later once inspiration strikes :)


	3. The Assets of the Archaeologist

**The Assets of the Archaeologist  
**by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Mild innuendo, 'cause Vala's awake again.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "Avalon, Part One". Minor spoilers for "Ex Deus Machina".  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait,_ and _the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?  
Notes: The meaning of the title will be made _abundantly_ clear by the end. Evil Grin>

* * *

**The Assets of the Archaeologist**

"_It has been wisely said that we cannot really love anybody at whom we never laugh_."  
-- Agnes Repplier, _Americans and Others_

Teal'c was intensely grateful for the full day's recess of the Jaffa Council. A warrior by nature, Teal'c had often prided himself on being able to communicate through his actions rather than his speech, perhaps even replying with a simple movement of the head rather than aloud. His eight years among the Tau'ri had helped him to overcome some of his natural reticence toward expressing himself verbally, physically, and emotionally, but he still preferred to speak only when necessary. Furthermore, he was direct and honest in his expression, and did not use his words in a subterfuge of his true intent.

Such was not the way of the Jaffa Council.

Gerak, former First Prime of Montu, was a skilled weaver of verbal deception. The voice of the more traditional, oligarchical ways of the Jaffa, he was swiftly gaining the support of the Council's members. As the _de facto_ voice of the liberal, democratic Jaffa movement in Bra'tac's absence, Teal'c found himself wishing he could employ Daniel Jackson to speak in his stead, a man who had--on more than one occasion--talked an Unas into friendship. He curled his lips at the thought of his Tau'ri friend and the arrogant Jaffa engaging in a verbal duel.

_Perhaps that is why Gerak has forbidden outsiders to speak directly to the Council as a whole_, he reasoned, his smile becoming a frown. It was a motion the elder Jaffa had pressed upon the Council early in the proceedings, citing the necessity to lessen the number of distractions the Council would be forced to endure. Even still, the Council supplied plenty of its own distractions, thus creating the need for extended breaks in order to cool fiery tempers.

Fortunately, this recess enabled him to be at the side of Daniel Jackson when he awoke.

"How you doing?" Colonel Mitchell asked the groggy Tau'ri linguist.

"Uh... fine, I think," Daniel replied, down-playing his well-being as was his wont. "What happened? I was--"

"It's the bracelet."

"They are called _kor'mak_," Teal'c began, having already had the entire situation related to him--every last word and sordid detail--by the excitable Tau'ri colonel.

"Figured he might know," Mitchell explained.

Daniel Jackson didn't look at all surprised. "Yeah, she said they were some sort of weird Goa'uld... Nut... marriage-thing."

Were it not for the seriousness of the situation, Teal'c would have smiled. _Daniel Jackson does not realize how often he sounds like O'Neill_, he mused. Instead, he replied, "I do not believe that to be the case."

"Really?" Again, there was a distinctive _lack_ of surprise in his voice as the archaeologist flopped back on the bed. "Should've known."

Explaining the history of the devices first utilized by Cronus, Teal'c became aware of the sounds of the former Goa'uld host Vala Mal Doran stirring upon her own bed. "That's just about the _stupidest_ thing I've ever heard," she scoffed.

The sudden vehemence displayed by Daniel took him aback. "You didn't know?"

"Well, I knew it would make _you_ sick," she protested. "I didn't know it would have the same effect on me, too!"

"How could you not _know?_"

"Because the person that I stole them from didn't tell me that part!"

Growling in exasperation, Daniel grabbed a pillow and threw it at Vala, then flopped on his back. Teal'c reasoned it was only recent, prolonged unconsciousness that prevented his friend from leaping from the bed, putting himself in the woman's face, and demanding a complete explanation.

"Question," Mitchell began, pulling Teal'c from his musings. "Why would the Goa'uld design these things that way?"

The answer was both simple and obvious. "To punish the Jaffa for his incompetence." Actually, given the way the devices bound the lives of their wearers together, the mistaken belief the bracelets were matrimonial in nature seemed not far at all from the truth.

"Right... of course."

"Can you take it off?" Daniel asked quietly. When Teal'c was forced to reply in the negative, the directive was repeated to Vala.

Her grin was immediate. "Yes, of course I do. I mean… that's assuming that the person I stole them from was honest about _that_ part."

"Just do it."

"Alright!" she cried. "As soon as we find the treasure and I get my fair share."

Daniel closed his eyes and leaned close. "Okay, just to clarify…when I kill her…I die?"

_Indeed, O'Neill has definitely 'rubbed off' on you, Daniel Jackson_, Teal'c inwardly smiled. "Just as if you left her proximity."

The archaeologist clearly wasn't pleased with that answer, nor did he seem particularly fond of Mitchell's revelation that he had once again missed an opportunity to travel to the city for which he had seemingly given up his own ascension. "I know it's not the lost city of Atlantis we're looking for, here," the colonel reasoned, "but whatever it is could be worth finding." He paused. "Or you're just gonna have to marry that chick."

Vala was obviously enamored of that suggestion. "Yeah, lets make babies!"

Daniel groaned, rolling his eyes. "Having children with you is one of the _last _things on my to-do list," he warned. "It's somewhere right between 'shooting myself' and 'burning in Hell'."  
"Admit it, Daniel, you find me attractive."

"I 'find' you annoying, irritating, and deceitful," he replied. "Uncouth, treacherous, bothersome--"

The thief squirmed against the restraints holding her to the bed. "Oh, you're making me feel all warm inside, Daniel. I just _love_ it when a man talks dirty. Go on!"

"--selfish, conceited, aggravating, dishonest, sophistic, fallacious, specious, insidious, mendacious--"

Fortunately for all within listening range, Daniel's linguistic tirade was cut short by the timely arrival of Doctor Lam. "While you certainly _sound_ all right, Doctor Jackson," she began curtly, checking the information being displayed by the diagnostic machinery, "but I think that's enough ranting for one day."

"I was still on English," he muttered.

"Didn't sound like it to me," Mitchell replied. "And while I'm _sure_ you could have continued your run-down of her more _endearing_ traits quite happily, the rest of us don't wanna wait through however-many dozen languages you speak these days. Am I right, Teal'c?"

The simplest answer was often the best. "Indeed."

"Not to mention that you managed to skip 'resourceful', 'witty', and 'irresistibly beautiful'," Vala added petulantly.

"Oh, you're resistible," the archaeologist assured her, turning his head in her direction briefly.

"Hmm? Is that why you couldn't keep your hands off me earlier?"

Daniel sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Excuse me? I think _you_'re the one who had the wandering hands!" Doctor Lam made an odd choking sound, then, but apparently chose not to share the source of her amusement. Teal'c was reasonably certain the doctor's recent proximity to the hub of the base rumor mill had already given her quite the earful. "Now thanks to you, I've missed my chance to get to Atlantis _again!_"

"Well, it wasn't _my_ intention to render us both unconscious!" Vala protested. She glanced cautiously at Doctor Bennett as he began to make notes on her chart.

"Of _course_ not," Daniel retorted. "But I bet your little 'plan' included _me_ getting knocked out!"

She shrugged as best she could with her hands restrained. "All right, so it wasn't the best of plans. Still, I'm not going anywhere, so you're just going to have to find that treasure for me."

"Uh, correction: if and when I find that treasure, myself, _I_'ll be the one to decide what _you _get out of it."

"You can't crack the code without the cipher."

He smirked. "Well, apparently I have a lot more time to work on it, now don't I?"

"See? Something good's come of this, then," Vala grinned.

Teal'c found that observing the rapid exchange between the archaeologist and the thief was much like attending a match of the Tau'ri sport, tennis. "I would suggest you cooperate in this matter," he advised the former host. "The sooner Daniel Jackson deciphers the tablet, the sooner he can determine what your share of the treasure will be." _And the sooner he can return you through the Stargate empty-handed_.

She acted surprised to see him. "A Jaffa? My, my, Daniel, you've really outdone yourself attempting to prove the diversity of your little planet's populace."

"Oh, I'm quite certain you got 'up close and personal' with our little planet's diversity when you felt up Sergeants Emerson and Klopel."

Doctor Lam made the same choking noise again, earning her a bemused look from Mitchell and Teal'c. "It was a cultural misunderstanding," Vala explained.

Mitchell grinned. "Right." Then, out of the side of his mouth, he muttered, "How'd you hear about that? You've been unconscious for nine hours."

"Good guess," Daniel answered. He turned to Doctor Lam. "Are we finished yet? Can I go?"

She crossed her arms. "You've been unconscious for nine hours," she repeated. "There's no telling what after-effects the bracelets might have. I recommend twenty-four hours observation to--"

"Which of the nurses put you up to _that_?" he demanded. "Nevermind, I can guess a few names myself." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, so long as Vala and I stay in proximity, we'll be okay."

"We'll stick together like fleas on Demeter's hounds!" Vala agreed cheerily, giving Doctor Bennett her most winning smile.

"Not _that_ closely," Daniel smiled tightly. "Teal'c, Colonel Mitchell, I'd really appreciate a few extra sets of eyes when I get to work on this tablet."

"I don't read Ancient," Mitchell protested.

"Nor do I," Teal'c agreed. The time-loops didn't count, as he'd merely memorized only specific words and phrases.

Daniel crossed his arms. "I'm not _asking_ you to help me with the translation, I'm asking you to keep an eye on _her_. Both eyes, actually. The stuff in my lab may be all packed up with nowhere to go, but that doesn't mean _anything_ is safe from her greedy little fingers."

_Perhaps it is _I_ who has spent too much time around O'Neill_, Teal'c thought, a smile touching his lips. The opening he'd been presented was far too tempting to ignore. "You can rest assured we will do our utmost to protect your 'ass'-ets."

Daniel glared.

* * *

Author's Notes:

And I'm STILL on "Avalon, Part One"! Granted, a good portion of the second part of the episode and much of "Origin" won't be written ('cause Daniel and Vala's little trip was done on their own), but there's still more of _this_ episode to cover before I move on to another. But, GOSH, this is fun...

Once again, kudos to www(dot)moon-catchin(dot)net for the transcripts.

In other news, there may be a bit of a posting delay for the next two weeks, as MY Daniel (my big brother) comes home from Iraq on leave this Saturday!


	4. The Abstrusity of the Archaeologist

**The Abstrusity of the Archaeologist  
**by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Two swear words, both of 'em Landry's fault.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "Avalon, Part One". Minor references to "Prometheus Unbound".  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait,_ and _the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?  
Notes: Even generals have bad days.

* * *

**The Abstrusity of the Archaeologist**

"The enthusiastic, to those who are not, are always something of a trial."  
- Alban Goodier, _The School of Love_

The stack of reports and requisitions on the corner of the desk had added a few inches in his absence, and was now precariously listing to one side like a paper imitation of the famous tower in Pisa, Italy. The monument to the noble sacrifice of hundreds of trees to the service of the United States Air Force looked like a single gust of air might send its pieces flying to the corners of the office. Shaking his head, Hank Landry lamented that the only thing his predecessor _hadn't_ been joking about was the sheer volume of paperwork the SGC apparently required to run its day-to-day operations.

"It's a good thing there are so many trees in this galaxy," Jack had said shortly after the dumbstruck Landry had mumbled his agreement to lead the Stargate program. "Hey, while you're in charge there, why don't we see if we can get a paper mill established offworld? Either that, our own planet'll be completely denuded in a few short months..."

Grinning to himself, General Landry poked his head around his office door toward Sergeant Harriman's desk. "Walter!" he barked. "Find out what it would take to set up an off-world lumber and paper mill."

The balding man gaped, doing a remarkable impression of a guppy. "Sir?"

"Thank you, Walter." Closing the door, he smiled to himself. _So, the little sergeant isn't psychic after all!_ Which was a shame really, as it would be pretty handy to have someone who could predict all the little emergencies and crises involved in running an entire base, and schedule everything else around them.

Like the unforeseen interference of a certain under-dressed alien _femme fatale_. Landry felt sorry for Doctor Jackson, having been told by Jack how the archaeologist had "missed the boat" the other two times he'd attempted to travel to Atlantis. Okay, so the _first_ one had been entirely Jack's responsibility, but blame for the second-and now the third-rested squarely on the bared shoulders of Vala Mal Doran.

Not like he would actually share his empathy with Doctor Jackson, of course; Jack had already warned him against _that_. "It's actually a good thing Daniel won't be at the SGC for much longer," he'd observed later that same night, "'cause if you let Daniel think there's a soft human heart underneath the hardened, military exterior for even a _minute_... Well, let's just say, he's a hard guy to get rid of, and even _harder_ to ignore."

Landry settled himself in the desk chair with a sigh. "Kind of like this paperwork," he muttered, reaching for the file at the top of the stack. He'd just opened it to the first page when his phone rang. Closing the file and snatching up the handset, he gruffly answered, "Landry."

"_I thought I'd let you know that both Daniel and Vala are awake and seem to be just fine_," Doctor Lam reported tersely. "_I've released them both under the watchful eyes of Colonel Mitchell and Teal'c to finish whatever it was they were translating before they were brought in_."

"That's great, Carolyn," Landry smiled, softening immediately at the sound of his daughter's voice. "How long ago did they wake up?"

"_About half an hour ago_," she answered. "_They left the infirmary ten minutes later, but we've had our hands full with Colonel Reynolds and his team ever since_."

Landry winced, remembering the sorry state of the four men's recent arrival. "How _is_ SG-3?"

A huff of air was blown through the receiver. "_Well, conventional antihistamines are helping the rash and the sneezing somewhat, and I've ordered their clothing and gear marked for incineration. They'll be released from the infirmary within the hour, barring any further reactions from the pollen_."

"That's good news. Listen, I'll let you get back to work. Let me know when you release SG-3, okay?"

"_Got it_," Carolyn answered, then hung up.

Opening the file once more, Landry hadn't even finished the first paragraph, when a knock sounded. _What now? _he groaned inwardly. "Come in!" he shouted.

Sergeant Harriman stepped into the office, carrying a half-inch thick folder. "Sir? Here's a proposal drawn up last year regarding the establishment of an offworld timber procurement facility-"

Landry felt his jaw drop. How did Walter do it? Was it his glasses? Did they pick up images from the future?

"-given our current de-emphasis of new exploration and re-orientation toward the acquisition of valuable resources and raw materials-"

_Maybe it's all in the horoscopes inside those weird tabloids he reads when he thinks no one is looking_, the general mused. _With Mercury rising in your house, expect your boss to request an obscure file you wrote on a whim a year ago. Lucky numbers are 1, 9, 15, 22, and 34._

"-Joint Chiefs. Would you care to take a look at it, sir?" Harriman finished. "It was all General O'Neill's idea, but another set of eyes wouldn't hurt."

Resisting the almost-insatiable urge to heave a sigh, Landry motioned to the pile on the corner of his desk. "I'll read over it, but I'm sure it's fine. Thank you, Walter."

"You're welcome, sir," the short sergeant replied, easily balancing the file atop the skewed stack and retreating from the office.

"Never thought I'd complain about people doing their jobs _too_ well," he grumbled to himself. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Landry stood up with his empty coffee mug and walked over to the machine to pour another cup. Inhaling the rich aroma as he returned to his chair, he turned his attention back to the folder he'd already opened on his desk, re-reading the first paragraph. He was half-way through the second paragraph when the phone rang again. "Landry," he growled.

"_Sir! It's Colonel Mitchell. Jackson's got the tablet translated, and thinks he knows where the treasure is located_."

"Already?" the general blurted, glancing at the clock. Hadn't Carolyn released the linguist from the infirmary only half an hour ago?

"_Oh, yeah!_" Mitchell exclaimed. "_Doctor Jones might've forgotten his razor, sir, but at least he knows where to find the Holy Grail_."

_Doctor Jones?_ Landry blinked, then gave a short laugh. "Right. How long will it take to prepare a mission briefing?"

He could hear the question being repeated in the background, then, "_Is an hour soon enough?_"

Landry had to remind himself once again that he was in command of the SGC, an elite front-lines reconaissance and combat deployment facility. Every soldier and civilian serving there was representative of the best and brightest in their respective fields, including the man who was arguably the world's most brilliant linguist-slash-archaeologist-slash-anthropologist-slash-warrior-slash-diplomat-slash...

_"Jackson says he can have it ready in half that_," Mitchell continued, apparently taking the general's silence for disapproval, "_but he'd really like to have some slides prepared for_-"

"An hour's fine," Landry interrupted quickly. "Tell Indy to leave his hat and bullwhip in his lab."

The colonel's grin was audible. "_Yes, sir!_"

Landry shook his head with a smile, replacing the phone in its cradle. Oh, yes, Jack had described all of his former teammates in great detail, spinning larger-than-life portraits of each with his vivid descriptions of their many strengths, weaknesses, and peculiarities. Of course, he'd wrapped up each biographical spiel with a quick "but so-and-so won't be there very long, so you don't have to worry about that" statement, but had left Landry feeling as though he'd known each member of SG-1 for years.

He could relate to Teal'c somewhat, given the large alien's military background, and could reasonably compare Sam Carter's analytical mind to his own scientifically-inclined daughter. But Doctor Jackson? Even Jack had admitted he still didn't entirely understand his friend, and they'd known one another for a decade!

The ringing of the phone interrupted his reverie. "Landry."

"_General, I've just released Colonel Reynolds from the infirmary, and the rest of the team should be ready to go in another five minutes. Do you want me to send them all down for a debriefing as soon as they're done?_"

"Just Colonel Reynolds, for now," Landry answered. "He can give me a prelimenary report, but the rest of the team can wait for a full debrief 'til later."

"_He's on his way, General_."

"You don't have to call me 'General'," he admonished.

"_Of course I do, General, you're my boss_," Doctor Lam answered curtly. "_I recommend putting SG-3 on stand-down for a few days, at least until the rash clears up. Will there be anything else, General?_"

He sighed. "Not now, Carolyn." _Yes, Jack, if there's _one_ thing about Jackson I understand, it's that willfull, disobedient part you described in such pain-staking detail..._ The earpiece of the phone had just clattered into place when it rang again, invoking the sudden, satisfying imagery of smashing the offending device against the wall. "LANDRY!"

The quiet chuckle on the other end caught him by surprise. "_Oh, yeah, _somebody_'s at the technology-bashing stress level. Just don't tear any wires out of the wall, or Sergeant Siler'll get mad._"

"It's been a hell of a day, Jack," Landry answered, exhaling heavily. "I don't know how you and George dealt with this."

"_I don't know about Gen-George, but when things too bad, I found that sticking my fingers in my ears and humming really loudly helped a lot_," the often-juvenile General O'Neill replied cheerily. "_So... Colonel Caldwell told me Danny missed the boat. Who or what kidnapped and/or killed him this time?_"

"That's not funny, Jack."

"_If it weren't so true it would be,_" Jack answered. "_Seriously, I've got almost no details here. Do I need to come out there? Is he okay?_"

Landry rolled his eyes. "Carolyn's released him from the infirmary-thanks for that, by the way-and he's currently preparing a briefing on the translation of some Ancient treasure map brought here by Vala Mal Doran."

"_Get out! The same Vala who snatched the _Prometheus_ last year and tossed Daniel around like a pro wrestler?_"

"Same one. She used some sort of alien cuff to link the two of them together, which is why they collapsed when they were separated." He snorted. "She's apparently refusing to take the damn things off 'til Daniel finds her treasure for her."

"_He's got it translated already?_"

"Yeah, and-"

"_So I'm guessing he's been awake... two hours? An hour in the infirmary, an hour with the tablet?_"

"A little over an hour," Landry corrected, glancing upward at the sound of a hesitant knock at his door. "Carolyn kept him there only ten minutes." He waved the splotch-covered Colonel Reynolds to a seat.

Jack _tsk_ed. "_Pushover. Janet would've kept him there for thirty._"

"I find it funny there's somebody here who can out-stubborn her," he grinned. "Listen, Jack, I've got Reynolds here in my office. Should I have Doctor Jackson to call you later?"

"_Nah, I'll catch him another time. 'Bye._"

"'Bye, Jack." Finally-finally!-hanging up the phone, Landry cleared his throat. "General O'Neill," he offered in explanation. "So, how'd you get the... dye job?"

Reynolds made to answer, but ended up sneezing into a hastily-readied tissue, instead. "De blants s'rounded de 'Gate on all sides, Gen'ral," he managed a good nose-blowing later. "We didn' nodice de bollen 'dil we were already halb way 'cross de field. By den, id was doo lade."

"Pretty well coated in pollen by then, eh? Well, from the looks and sounds of it, Colonel, you've had a pretty rough day. Go home, get some rest, and come back in three days, okay?"

"Yes sir, dank you, sir," Reynolds nodded, relieved. He stood to leave the room, but not before erupting in another violent sneeze that was probably measurable on the Richter scale.

And of _course_ the Leaning Tower of Paper decided it was safer on the floor. Folders, files, and reports flew to all corners of the room, scattering across Landry's office like autumn leaves. Frozen in surprise, the general could only stare at the sudden chaos that was his formerly tidy workspace.

"Dorry, dir," Reynolds began, reaching for a fallen folder.

"Just go home, Colonel," Landry sighed, closing his eyes. After the afflicted officer left the room, Landry pulled himself to his feet and began gathering the documents strewn about the room, haphazardly poking folders into a box leftover from his move into the office. He'd just tucked the last one in when someone knocked on the briefing room door. "Come in, already!"

Colonel Mitchell peered cautiously around the door. "Uh, sir? We're ready in here, now."

Giving the clock a startled glance and realizing it had, indeed, been an hour since Mitchell had phoned, he waved the colonel off. "I'm comin', I'm comin'..."

Sparing a glance at the corner desk to see that Harriman had apparently run of on some unknown errand, Landry stepped toward the head of the table, but at the last second, veered off to one side, remembering that 'slides' had been mentioned. Sure enough, Doctor Jackson came in just a second later, carrying a memory stick for the projector in one hand and a bundle of papers in the other.

"Why do we have to _ask_ to use the _Prometheus_?" the voice of Vala Mal Doran floated through the door shortly afterward. "I didn't ask the _last_ time."

"Oh, yes, and we all know how well _that_ went," Daniel retorted, turning from the computer in the corner to glare at Vala as she entered the room. "It took them two _weeks_ to repair all the damage from the gliders and al'kesh."

"None of that would have happened if _you_ had listened to me and not locked me back up in that cell!"

"Oh, right, 'cause you were telling me the truth about why you needed the ship in the first place, weren't you?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Would you really have helped me if I had?"

He smirked. "No... Which is exactly the point of why we're _asking_ to use the _Prometheus_... We're doing this _my_ way, now, not yours."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Vala grinned, holding up the arm encircled by the alien bracelet.

"All right, break it up, kids!" Mitchell announced loudly, interrupting what was sure to be a very vocal outburst from the linguist. "The General's waiting."

"Sorry, sir," Daniel answered contritely, then cleared his throat. "Uh, if you'll all have a seat, we can get started." As soon as everyone was seated, he dimmed the lights with the remote. "Right, uh, General, how much do you know about the legend of King Arthur?"

Landry blinked. _How did we go from Ancient treasure, to the _Prometheus_, to the legend of King Arthur?_ "Pretty much what any American knows: the sword in the stone, Guinevere, Lancelot, Excalibur, Merlin."

"Ever heard of Avalon?"

"Yeah," he replied, still unsure in what direction this was going. "Mythical island ruled by wizards?"

"Enchantresses, actually," Daniel corrected. "According to Celtic mythology, Avalon was located within a veil of mists, and was neither a part of this world nor the next, but somewhere in between. It features heavily in the myths of King Arthur and of the famous enchanter Merlin. Merlin-also known as 'Myrddin' in Welsh mythology-was believed by some to be a prophet-"

Belatedly, Landry remembered something _else_ Jack had told him about Daniel: "That man is a born teacher. If he was gonna be around there very long, I'd warn you not to let him get started on a topic... but he's not, so I won't. If you don't make him get to point right away, you'll find yourself on the receiving end of a twenty minute lecture about basketweaving techniques of the Fourth Dynasty. You won't know _why_ you know it, but if you ever find yourself with some handy reeds from the Nile, you'll certainly know what to do with 'em." He'd then taken another swig of his beer and added, "But since Daniel's headed to Atlantis, you won't really have to worry about any of that."

"Are not the Ancients prevented from interfering with the existence of mortals?" Teal'c asked suddenly, bringing Landry's thoughts back to the present.

_How did we go from Avalon to the Ancients?_

Ascended Ancients, yes, for the most part," Daniel agreed. "But it's possible Merlin was not actually ascended himself but was, in fact, just a human far along the evolutionary path."

"What does this have to do with where this alleged treasure is buried?" Landry demanded, his little moment of daydreaming having left him completely lost.

"Well, there are a number of conflicting interpretations, but certain threads point to the Knights of the Round Table gathering great treasures from the far corners of Arthur's domain and hiding them in a magical strong hold at Avalon," he explained.

"Including the Holy Grail," added Mitchell.

"According to some," Daniel corrected.

Vala had looked bored up to this point, but was suddenly very interested. "This 'grail'…what's that worth?" Landry stared in surprise, finding the room's other occupants doing the same. "What?" she exclaimed.

At last, the general was beginning to get an inkling of where all this was leading, but a sudden flurry of what sounded suspiciously like Latin reminded him that Daniel's twenty minutes were _long_ since past. "Yes, yes, and the point _is_...?" he interrupted a bit more harshly than he'd intended, standing up to put himself as near to eye-level with the tall archaeologist as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mitchell rising to his feet as well, and waved the man down.

"Certain Celtic legends says that Glastonbury Tor-the hill overlooking the town-is actually hollow, and that contained within it is the underworld Avalon."

"Has no one ever done any sort of geological survey?"

Daniel looked so genuinely apologetic, it was hard for Landry to maintain the facade of arrogant hostility he'd unwittingly erected about himself. "There have been several scientific studies-"

"Jackson!"

"We're talking about the _Ancients_ here, sir. It's very possible that the underground entrance was concealed by some technology," the linguist stuttered, talking so quickly he was stumbling over his own words.

"Sir, we're hoping to use the Asgard sensors aboard the _Prometheus_ to find something we haven't been able to see before," Mitchell concluded.

"Thank you!" Landry exclaimed, wondering just how in the world a simple request to use the sensors aboard the _Prometheus_ had turned into a twenty-five minute discussion of Arthurian legend. They wanted to look for an Ancient treasure site under Glastonbury Tor in England? "Well, two years ago I wouldn't have believed we'd find an Ancient outpost under a mile of ice in Antarctica," he said aloud, more to himself than to anyone in particular. "I'll call the president. I'm sure he'll want to inform the British Prime Minister."

Stalking off into the office, he refrained from shutting the door only so that he could overhear whatever discussions he was sure were about to take place among those he'd left in the briefing room. Straightening the considerably smaller stack of files which _had_ managed to stay on his desk, he strained his ears.

"I'm sure she'll be interested in whatever we find," he heard Daniel say, before the archaeologist quickly left the room.

"Try playing hard to get," Vala advised.

A quick glance through the briefing room window showed Mitchell's incredulous expression. "Man, look who's talkin'."

Chuckling to himself, Landry turned and sat down in his chair, nearly jumping in surprise when he realized Teal'c was quietly standing beside the door to the hall. "How can I help you, Teal'c?"

The massive Jaffa bowed his head. "Although I have resigned my position at the SGC, I respectfully request permission to accompany Daniel Jackson and Colonel Mitchell on this mission."

"As long as I'm in charge around here, you'll always have a place at the SGC," Landry soothed.

Teal'c nodded graciously. "Thank you, General Landry." He turned to leave.

"Just one question."

"Yes?"

Landry picked up his long-since abandoned coffee cup, wincing when he realized it had gone cold. "Is Doctor Jackson _always_ like that?"

The Jaffa gave a small smile, bowed from the waist, and left the office.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I'm BAAAAAAAAAaaaaaack! Honestly, I'm through with "Avalon, Part One" this time. Really! There should be space for a small "Avalon, Part Two" piece, a little "Origin" fic, then its on to THE TIES THAT BIND!


	5. The Arguments of the Archaeologist

**The Arguments of the Archaeologist  
**by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: All Ages  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: Felger blows something up, Daniel and Vala squabble like children... normal stuff.  
Episodes: Missing scene for "Avalon, Part Two" with references to "Paradise Lost", "Evolution", "Avatar", "Citizen Joe", and "Avalon".  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait,_ and _the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?

* * *

**The Arguments of the Archaeologist**

"Most quarrels are inevitable at the time; incredible afterwards."  
-- E. M. Forster

It was like the unveiling of a masterpiece of modern art. The lights went down, the cover came off, and the SGC's latest endeavor into converting alien shielding technology into a machine usable by the United States Air Force was revealed in all its ugly, misshapen splendor. It also came with its very own fireworks show--which apparently hadn't been on the program--nor had anyone predicted the sudden rain storm which brought a sizzling, billowing end to the pyrotechnics.

Coughing and fanning the smoke away from his face, Doctor William "Bill" Lee grabbed for the phone on the science lab's wall, its shrieks for attention nearly drowned out by the squawks of dismay from behind him. He sighed, just _knowing_ this wasn't going to be an enjoyable conversation.

The rush of expletives which exploded from the receiver proved him right. "No, sir... Doctor Felger had assured me there wouldn't be a problem." _There was your first mistake, Bill_, he chided himself as soon as the hastily proffered excuse left his lips. _Since when does _any_ plan of Jay Felger's go without a hitch?_

Listening to both the yelling in his left ear and the whining in his right, Bill winced as General Landry demanded an explanation for the explosion in the lab and the subsequent engagement of the base's fire suppression systems. "Doctor Paxton thinks it might be the capacitor... Doctor Reinholdt is guessing the power reg--"

He was interrupted by another explosion, though this time verbal in nature.

"N-nobody really knows yet, sir!" Bill stuttered in reply. "It'll take some time to clear the smoke and water out of the lab, but I promise I'll make it top priority." A reminder from the general had him amending, "Well, besides that. This'll be second pri--er, _third_ priority... Well, we'll try to put this above all--" The sound of a slamming phone rattled his eardrums.

_How did Colonel Carter do it?_ the beleaguered scientist asked himself for what very well could have been the one-hundredth time in as many hours. The common rumor around the SGC was that Doctor Lee and Colonel Carter didn't like one another, but Bill knew that to be completely--well, almost entirely--no, make that _mostly_ baseless. Truthfully, he didn't like _anyone_ military because none of them seemed to truly understand the value of research for the sake of research. _Everything_ had to have a purpose, a goal, a "mission", and that just didn't sit will with Bill Lee, a scientist's scientist at heart.

Really, the colonel wasn't _always_ such a military-minded person--in fact, he found himself nearly calling her _Doctor_ Carter a time or two in the labs--but there still lay that almost-tangible aura of autocracy all the military-types seemed to exude. The higher the rank, the more unreasonable and inflexible the military mind-set became, he decided.

That's not to say there weren't times when he actually _admired_ the focusing abilities of his former department head or any other of the soldier-scientists stationed at the SGC. In fact, the time he and Samantha Carter had disagreed the most strongly was when she _wasn't_ thinking very militarily, absorbed as she was in the agony of having lost then-Colonel Jack O'Neill so recently after having lost Daniel Jackson.

_Now_ there's_ a blend of science and soldier_, he mused. Doctor Jackson defied any attempt to firmly place him in either category, instead holding to a unique designation all his own: Daniel. Never had the difference between the archaeologist and all the other members of the SGC been more profound than the first time he and Bill had ever worked closely: when they'd been sent to Honduras on what was to be an ill-fated mission to retrieve the Telchak device. The younger man had astounded him with his brilliance and intuition when they'd first discovered the chamber containing the legendary Fountain of Youth. Then, after they'd been captured by the rebels, Daniel's tenacity in the face of torture had left Bill feeling guilty for his own weaknesses, especially after the archaeologist broke them out of their prison, then took a bullet while leading their pursuers away from the exhausted and far-less-athletic Doctor Lee.

For all intents and purposes, Daniel had taken that bullet for _him_. On the plane ride back to Colorado, Jack O'Neill had told Bill knowingly, "Kinda makes the guy grow on ya, huh?"

"Doctor Lee! Are you okay?"

Bill snapped out of his reverie, spearing Doctor Jay Felger with his most authoritative glower. "Other than suffering from smoke inhalation? Fine."

Felger had the good graces to look somewhat abashed. "Chloe's got the ionizer running at top speed, sir... We're clearing it out as fast as we can!"

"I know that, Jay," Bill sighed, glancing down at the phone handset he still held in his left hand. Hastily, he spun and dropped the device back on its base before turning back to face the other three scientists. "Now, what did you want?"

"We think we've figured out what went wrong with the shield generator," Doctor Reinholdt answered.

"An electrical overload relay malfunctioned, resulting in catastrophic feedback," Doctor Payton finished.

Bill stared. "You mean you blew a fuse?"

The three men glanced at one another warily. "Don't tell General O'Neill," Felger begged, looking genuinely frightened at the thought.

But Bill was not to be deterred. "A forty-thousand dollar piece of technology and you blew a _fuse_? Not to mention_ five years _of research, _four weeks _for Doctor Jackson to ultimately finalize the treaty to _get _us the template generator in the _first_ place, _seven months_ for Colonel Carter to re-design the--"

"Whoa! Am I interrupting something?"

Startled, the head of the SGC's science department turned to look at the newcomer to the room. Through the murky glow shed by the lab's emergency lighting, he first thought the tall, lean man standing in the doorway was Daniel... but then he realized Doctor Jackson didn't speak with a Southern drawl--well, not usually anyway. "Apparently, I blew a fuse," he managed, shooting his colleagues one last scathing glare. "How can I help you, Colonel Mitchell?"

"_You _blew a fuse? That's funny," Mitchell grinned, coughing lightly as he inadvertently inhaled a whiff of smoke. "Ah, Doctor Lee, can we take this some place with a little _less_ atmosphere?"

"What? Oh, right. My office?"

"Down the hall and on the right?"

"Uh, yeah." Frankly, it surprised Bill that Mitchell even knew where the science labs were, let alone whose offices were where. _After four years of Jack O'Neill, a colonel who doesn't pretend the Wonderful Wizard of Oz is the only person who can give out brains is a _welcome _change_, he thought wryly.

"Great filing system," Mitchell remarked upon flipping the office's light switch.

"Do you wanna--would you like to sit?" Bill stammered, reaching to clear a stack of lab results from one of the room's chairs. Why did he always get caught in absent-minded professor mode? "Let me just put these--"

"No, it's okay," the colonel assured him. "I just wanted to get out of the smoke for a bit."

"Oh! Right. So, uh, Doctor Jackson find a way to get that bracelet off yet?"

"Nope. We _did _find an Ancient outpost hidden half a mile under a hill in England, though."

The scientist's jaw dropped. "An Ancient outpost? You mean like the one SG-1 found in Antarctica?" _Oh, good going, Bill, remind the guy he doesn't have the _real_ SG-1 team._

"Not quite," Mitchell answered, not acknowledging the inadvertent jab, if he'd even noticed it all. "This was more like that scene in _National Treasure_. You know, where they light the torch and there's all this gold piled every--never mind. The point is, the place was big on jewels and riches and shy on technology."

"Oh."

Mitchell turned toward the door as though about to leave, but then looked back over his shoulder with an impish grin. "Of course, there was this one thing with a blue crystal on top that Jackson says might be some sort of advanced Ancient device..."

Bill blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah!" The colonel gave a 'come on' gesture. "Let's go check it out!"

Grabbing his laptop and his 'kit' of sensors and wires, Bill Lee hurried down the corridor after the colonel, who was holding the elevator door open with an expression the older man thought _may_ have been mischievous... but it was so difficult to tell with military-types. _General O'Neill looked like he was up to something_ all_ the time_, he mused as the door closed, but then realized that was likely because, ninety-percent of the time, he _was_.

Which certainly put an interesting spin on how Bill was beginning to view the new colonel!

Fortunately, the elevator doors opened without incident and Mitchell strode briskly to the nearest observation lab, Science Lab 1. There, placed on a table for all to see, was a dark-colored object shaped vaguely like a flattened toy top. Adorning the "handle" was a strange, crystalline structure which somewhat resembled an artist's interpretation of a frozen flame. The base had several egg-shaped depressions all around its circumference. At a glance, Bill had _no_ idea what the object could be.

"There you go!" Mitchell grinned cheerily, making a show of checking his watch. "I've gotta go interview another SG-1-wanna-be. Have fun playing with the lovebirds." Shoving his hands in his pockets, the colonel turned heel and left.

_Lovebirds?_ Shaking his head, Bill dismissed the last statement as inconsequential and began pulling out the tools of his trade. No sooner had he gotten the wires connected and the computer powered up, then the sound of voices echoed down the hall.

"Oh, please, Daniel, don't tell me you weren't even the _least _bit interested in all that gold and jewels."

"Okay, I won't say it."

Suddenly, Bill realized exactly what--or rather, _who_--Mitchell had meant: Daniel Jackson and Vala Mal Doran.

"Well, even if _you_ don't care about riches, _I_ do. The least you could've done was argued for my fair share of it."

The linguist stepped into the lab, carrying a small box in one hand and a file folder in the other. "While I'm sure most of what we found in that chamber has a tremendous monetary value, the intrinsic cultural and historical value to the people of Earth is far greater than whatever you might have been able to pawn it off for at an off-world market." He placed the items on the table beside the alien device and crossed his arms.

The thief placed her hands on the table and leaned across. "Really? Somehow I doubt that."

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that the persistently materialistic side of you doesn't acknowledge anything being worth something _other_ than money."

That was, apparently, the _wrong_ thing to say to her. "You know, Daniel, while your lofty ideals about the preservation of history for your little planet are commendably noble, the rest of the galaxy doesn't care. You do know what it's like to have to fight to survive because your own people have cast you out and--"

Daniel smirked. "Yes, I do."

"--you have nowhere to..." She straightened, briefly taken aback. "Oh. Well, maybe you have, but you still--"

_They fight like an old married couple,_ he smiled to himself, the expression creeping across his face when he remembered the same description had also been used to describe the now-infamous verbal battles between Daniel and Jack O'Neill. Bill realized then that if he didn't put a stop to the bickering, the two stubborn individuals would likely keep going until the argument came to blows. "So what's this thing do?" he blurted.

Both heads whipped around, as though startled by his presence. "It's a communication device," Daniel answered after a moment.

"And what if it's a transporter?" Vala challenged.

"Not according to my translation, it's not."

"Your translation could be wrong."

"Not likely. I apparently learned to read this language when _ascended_."

"Oh, so you're _never_ wrong," she scoffed. "A lot of good that did us back in the cavern."

"Excuse me?" Daniel shouted, rounding on her again. "Who was the one that couldn't keep her greedy hands off of the gold? We weren't in any kind of a hurry, so if you'd just let me finish the translation, we wouldn't have had to go through the _exhilarating_ experience of nearly being crushed to death!"

They were nose to nose now, Vala having stepped around the end of the table. "How was I supposed to know the ceiling was going to come crashing down? There weren't any signs that said 'get this right or else', now were there?"

"You're telling me you've never heard of booby-trapped treasure before? And here I thought you were supposed to have been around the block a few times--"

"Where did it come from?" Bill shouted, halting the argument again. What was it with these two?

"From an Ancient treasure room under Glastonbury Tor in England," Daniel answered, straightening his glasses as he turned away from Vala and back toward the device. "It's likely that most of what was collected there was actually gathered by the Knights of the Round Table rather than the Ancients themselves, but there was also a book stored there. It was kind of like Genesis for the first part--so-and-so begat so-and-so--but then it really started getting interesting toward the middle."

"I liked the first part better," Vala interjected. "Some of those people led very interesting sex lives, judging by the way--"

Daniel's eyes rolled upward. "Do you _mind?_"

"Yes," she answered with an impudent grin.

Letting out a huff of air, the linguist continued, "Anyway, the second part was more of a history of the Ancients--called the Alterans, originally--and how they first came to Avalon... Earth. The script was Ancient, but the words were a lot closer to Medieval Latin, leading me to believe it was actually written based on second-hand knowledge or oral history long after the Ancients left Earth for the Pegasus Galaxy. I haven't gotten to finish the third part yet, but I think the book was sealed away in the cavern to prevent its destruction when Christianity came to Celtic England and all histories considered heretical or against Church doctrine were banned by the--"

"Boring," Vala commented.

"Maybe to some," he sniped back. "Or do we need to go over that again?"

"Yes, let's!" she agreed cheerfully.

Bill groaned, taking his glasses off and soothing the knots beginning to develop at his temples. "What makes you think this thing is a communication device?"

"Two things," Daniel answered, once again diverted from his almost single-minded pursuit of a shouting match with the equally argumentative thief. "First of all, there's actually a picture of the device in the book I found, and the description given of it refers to its use as a 'portal to the lands of the ancestors'."

"Transporter," Vala sing-songed.

This time, he ignored her. "The author of that particular page stated that anyone with an appropriate key need only insert it into the device and would be granted immediate 'communion' with the land of the ancestors."

"Transporter."

"The word 'communion'--and no, I highly doubt I mis-translated that word--typically means to 'share', such as thoughts or feeling. _Communication _device."

She looked smugly skeptical. "Right, because you're the linguist who speaks--"

"What was the second thing?" Bill asked quickly, forestalling what was sure to be another protracted argument.

Daniel picked up the flat box he'd carried into the room, and for the first time, Bill saw the label on the end clearly marking it as an item which had been thoroughly tested by the science labs and deemed significant enough to warrant storage at the SGC, rather than being shipped off to Area 51. "The text mentions a key. Where would you put a key on something like this, and what would it look like?"

Blinking, Bill stared down at the dark-colored device, seeking a crevice or keyhole within the smooth indentations shaped like-- "Hey! Those Ancient devices General O'Neill and that barber had!"

The archaeologist whipped the lid off of the box, revealing the pair of communication stones. "_Communication_ device," he insisted. "These stones grant the users the ability to see through one another's eyes telepathically, to share thoughts and feelings across hundreds of miles, maybe further." He set the box down and rapped on the surface of the new machine. "Combined with _this_, I believe the potential distance of travel is far greater than that, maybe even to another _galaxy_."

"You mean like Pegasus?"

"No, I'm hoping to the original home galaxy of the Alterans."

Bill gaped. "You mean they weren't from _this_ one?"

"Nope," Daniel answered. "Turns out they came here a long time ago--"

"--From a galaxy far, far away," Vala finished at the same time Daniel did. The two men stared at her in disbelief. "What?"

"I'll just pretend that was a coincidence," the archaeologist began, eyes narrowing.

"I heard Mitchell say it," she replied defensively. "These bracelets don't cause telepathic communication, I can promise you that."

"Well, you certainly didn't know they'd make us both sick, now did you? And more to the point, why haven't you taken them off already? We found your treasure."

"Oh, that's right, you mean _you_ found _my_ treasure and aren't allowing me to keep any of it, are you?"

"We've been over this..."

Vala planted a hand on her hip. "Let's go over it again, then. I did _not_ come all this way just to go home empty-handed. Now, one of three things is going to happen: one, I'm going to go home with my fair share of the treasure, which I'll sell to the highest bidder; two, I'm going to go home with an equally valuable piece of Ancient technology, which I'll sell to the highest bidder; or three, I'm going to drag _you_ through the wormhole with me, and sell_ you_ to the highest bidder." She lifted her chin defiantly. "Take your pick, Daniel."

He closed the distance between them. "Option four: you get kicked back through the wormhole with no treasure, no technology, and _without _me. You go back to Malikai, apologize for stealing his tablet from him, then go home empty-handed."

"I won't even bother to ask how you knew where I got it," she muttered. "Oh, you're right, Daniel, there _is_ an option four. Since you won't give me my treasure, you won't give me the Ancient technology, and you won't go with me, the only option left is for me to stay here with you for all eternity. It's up to you, but I personally don't mind any of those."

"I don't think so!"

A flicker of motion from the observation level drew Bill's gaze upward in time to see General Landry walk into the booth. Moments later, Colonel Mitchell walked through the still-open door of the science lab. He quickly smothered a smile when he found Daniel and Vala still bickering.

"Let me study this technology with you then, learn how it works. You say I don't understand the real value of things, but let me tell you, I know _exactly_ what that's worth."

"Forget it!"

Her eyes narrowed. "I have been around the galaxy long enough to know that knowledge is power, and understanding the technology that was left behind by the Ancients is the most powerful knowledge around."

Daniel was ready to explode. "And if you think I'm gonna stay linked with you for the rest of my natural--"

"Focus!" Mitchell interrupted, seeming to think the quarrel had gone on long enough. "Maybe we should _focus_ on the task at hand."

Quelling the almost-insatiable urge to sigh in relief, Bill cleared his throat. "Well... the device obviously has a power source and…uh, I don't think it's been depleted." _Oh, great going Bill, way to sound on top of things_. Of course, he would have had a better answer ready if he'd actually been able to _study_ the device instead of constantly being distracted by the verbal melee taking place in front of him.

Daniel's re-focusing abilities were somewhat better, as he launched into a considerably more brief explanation of how he came to the conclusion that the stones were 'keys' to the Ancient device than the one he'd given Bill. _Probably 'cause Mitchell's eyes would glaze over like General O'Neill's always did when you said any word bigger than two syllables._

"So... what happens when you attach the stones?" Mitchell asked.

Apparently he _could_ follow the simplified explanation!

"Uh, these stones were originally set for General O'Neill and one 'Joe Spencer'," Bill managed.

"Barber from Indiana," Daniel clarified.

"Yeah, weird guy," the colonel commented, obviously understanding. "I read the file."

"Uh... well..." _He reads? Are we sure he's a _real _colonel?_ "Anyway, after a lot of tedious--although I must say ultimately very brilliant--uh, work--if I do say so myself--" He was startled out of his enjoyable recollection of the many hours he'd spent de-programming the devices by a touch on his shoulder. "I was able to reset the stones," he finished.

Mitchell then proceeded to astonish him again and again by making logical connections and assumptions that usually would have caused General O'Neill to give Bill a blank stare before turning to Daniel and asking the linguist to translate into English for him.

"So... Any one of us can take the pony ride?" Mitchell concluded.

"Yeah, I figured that's gonna be me," Daniel answered with a self-satisfied smile. "I mean I _did_ miss the _Daedalus_ for this, so..."

"You gonna dine out on that for a while?" the colonel asked.

"Oh yeah, like you wouldn't believe."

"Well, no one's gonna make an argument against that--you are the world's foremost 'expert' on the Ancients--but we've got _two _stones."

Vala made her way around the table past Bill and Daniel to pick up the other device. "And this one's mind, thank you."

"Excuse me? How do you figure that?" Mitchell questioned, although he didn't seem terribly concerned.

"Well, Daniel and I _are_ linked," she replied, draping herself across the archaeologist's shoulder.

"I'll just point out for the record: we don't _have _to be."

Her arm having been dislodged from its perch, Vala leaned toward Mitchell. "He's only _guessing_ that this device is for communication. What if it's a transporter of some kind, and he gets whisked away and can't get back?"

Bill didn't think that was likely, given Daniel's translation, the function of the stones, and the rather ambiguous readings he was getting from the main device. "Actually, we have done a fair bit of research on this device, and I can say with absolute... relative... certainty..." Faced with the disbelieving expressions from Daniel and Vala, he gave up. "Oh, look, we have studied devices like this for _years_ and at some point, ultimately, you just have to turn it on!"

"I'm gonna give it a try," Daniel announced.

"Where he goes I go," Vala added.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"So he thinks."

"It's a _communication_ device," he reiterated, speaking through clenched teeth.

"I'm going to watch from the observation room," Bill decided, moving quickly to get out of the line of fire. Apparently, that particular argument wasn't over yet. He made it up the stairs in time to hear Daniel tell Vala there weren't any markings to tell them what to do, and had to stifle the sudden urge to grin. _But aren't there always markings?_ he'd once asked the archaeologist and linguist.

Light flared from the crystal atop the device and the two people standing in the science lab dropped to the floor. Bill swallowed heavily as Mitchell called for a medical team. "No one goes in there 'til the doctors clear it for contagion or radiation!" he could hear Landry ordering, but the scientist's thoughts were on something else entirely.

"Don't tell General O'Neill," he begged.

* * *

Author's Notes:  
Oh, I apologize for not getting back with most of you who have written me--but a new chapter's a good substitute, right? Every time I have a new email in my inbox from a reader, it makes me feel so good inside, I want to power up my PDA and start scribbling away! 


	6. The Apprenticeship of the Archaeologist

**The Apprenticeship of the Archaeologist** by Cleo the Muse  
Rating: Teens  
Genre: General, Humor, Missing Scene/Epilogue  
Warnings: _Pirates of the Caribbean_, _Star Wars_, Jell-O and–of course–Vala. Mild language and innuendo.  
Episodes: Missing scene/epilogue for "Origin". Minor spoilers in varying degrees for "Origin", "Avalon", "Threads", "Lockdown", "The Devil You Know", "Jolinar's Memories", "Forever in a Day", _Stargate_, and maybe a few others.  
Synopsis: Picks up where the series "The Thief" leaves off. Vala's found the perfect place, the perfect bait, and the perfect hook for fishing, but why can't she catch one reluctant archaeologist?  
Notes: It should be noted that the title of this portion of the series is "The Archaeologist". They're gonna be Daniel-centric in much the same way that "The Thief" tales were Vala-centric. But don't worry. She's still in 'em.  
March Update: this series has been 'completed' in favor of the third section, found on FFnet as 'The Thief and the Archaeologist'.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate, it owns me...

* * *

**The Apprenticeship of the Archaeologist**

_"There is no teaching until the pupil is brought into the same state or principle  
__in which you are; a transfusion takes place; he is you, and you are he… and  
__by no unfriendly chance or bad company can he ever lose the benefit."  
_— Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Spiritual Laws"

_Crap._

Scrubbing his face with both hands, Major General Jack O'Neill peered cautiously through his fingers at the report sitting on his desk. It was still there. Heaving a sigh, he pinned the offending document with one hand, laying the other atop the telephone handset perched on the corner of his desk.

It was already 1800 in Washington. Even if he _could _schedule a flight within the next hour, that still wouldn't put him in Colorado Springs until at _least_ 2100 local time, probably later. But if Jack knew Daniel—and he was one of only three people who was even _close_ to knowing the-mystery-that-is-Doctor Jackson—the archaeologist probably wouldn't leave Cheyenne Mountain until almost midnight.

If he left for the night at all.

The line just under his thumb drew his eye again. _"Given that the Ori and the Priors seem to believe that our entire galaxy has been raised by evil, I highly doubt the Prior encountered by SG-12 and Colonel Mitchell is the last we will see._"

And knowing Daniel like he did, Jack knew that his friend was already shouldering the blame for whatever was to come. The same sense of universal responsibility that had kept the SGC treading the moral high ground for so many years—sometimes reluctantly—was all-too-often directed inwardly. In all the years Jack had known him, Daniel had never learned to cut himself any slack nor offer the same forgiveness to himself that he so freely granted nearly everyone _not_ of the snaky persuasion.

_So says an undisputed master of self-flagellation,_ Jack chided himself, then grinned at the fifty-cent word his own thoughts tossed about so easily. Oh, yes, they'd taught one another well over the last nine years, though Jack was sure he'd gotten the better part of the bargain: he'd tutored Daniel in the arts of combat and sarcasm while the younger man had introduced him to the finer points of compassion and moral responsibility. All the while, they'd helped one another get through some of the absolute worst times in their respective lives, including—but certainly not limited to—the deaths of Charlie and Sha're. It hadn't stopped after Daniel's own death, either, as he'd even taken his highly-evolved self to Jack's prison cell aboard—

_Okay, _so _not going there._

The fact was, despite his outwardly independent and self-reliant nature, Daniel would always be at heart the too-bright little boy who'd lost his mother and father at a tender young age and had consequently never known the strength and support of a parent's unconditional love. Reticence—_another big word there, Jack_—was something neither man had needed to teach the other, but also wouldn't let one another get away with without a fight. Jack liked to think that he, Carter, and Teal'c and even Janet, Jacob, and Hammond had all helped fill the gap over the years, but Daniel still—whether he'd admit to himself or not—needed someone to talk to.

Unfortunately, Janet and Jacob_both_ were dead, Hammond retired to his quiet new residence in Texas, Carter buried up to her eyebrows in research at Area 51, and Teal'c halfway across the galaxy trying to build a government for his fractured people. Landry was no help, either, as he'd only just met Daniel and was therefore still suffering from the "who the hell is this guy and why can't I say 'no' to him?" syndrome. Mitchell was practically useless, too, for nearly the same reason.

Which meant that it was up to Jack to help his friend sort through all his misdirected feelings of guilt. Groaning, he glanced at the wall clock again, dismayed to realize he'd just wasted fifteen minutes convincing himself of what he'd already known he needed to do. At this rate, his plane wasn't going to touch down at Peterson 'til nearly midnight. It almost made him wish he could—

_Jack, dammit, you _are _the man!_

He snatched up the phone, checked his speed-dial list, then punched in two numbers. "Lionel!" he grinned. "I gotta get to the SGC fast. Warn Walter for me, will ya?"

Opening the left-hand drawer of his desk, Jack withdrew a small device and stood up. Picking up his hat and jacket, he muttered, "Beam me up, Scotty." Depressing the button on the face of the device, he vanished in a flash of light.

He re-integrated on the bridge of the _Prometheus_ and was greeted warmly by Colonel Pendergast. "Thanks for getting Mitchell assigned to the SGC," he smiled.

"He deserved it," Jack answered. "I'd love to stay and chat, boys..."

"Right," Pendergast nodded. "The SGC's field dampener will disengage on our signal. Are you ready?" Another brilliant flare later, he was facing a plain gray wall in the control room of the SGC.

"Gee, Jack, I emailed those mission reports three hours ago," came the amused voice of Hank Landry from behind him, causing Jack to quickly whirl about to face him. "What took you so long?"

"Oh, you know me... I've never been a fast reader." He shrugged on the class A jacket and tucked his hat under his arm. "So... weird guy flambéed himself in here? I see no burns."

"Actually, it was the briefing room and, no, you won't. Didn't leave so much as a scorch-mark on the carpet or ceiling."

"Neat trick," Jack commented, unsuccessfully suppressing the need to fidget. "So, how's Mitchell doing? He gonna work out as SG-1 leader and your 2IC?"

Hank gestured toward his office. "He's going to be fine," he answered once the door had closed. "But I haven't yet decided to make him my second. He follows orders a little too well."

"What's wrong with that?"

Landry propped a hip up on his desk, a move Jack approved of since it placed neither man behind The Desk. "I've always worked better with someone who challenges my decisions, makes me think outside the box. I don't know yet if Mitchell can do that, given that he's been such a 'yes'-man his entire career."

"Almost obscene, isn't it?" Jack smirked.

"Oh, yeah," Hank snorted. "George had you, and we both know how you feel about challenging barriers. By contrast, you had Reynolds, who's about as straight-laced as they come. Did he ever contradict you even once?"

"No," Jack admitted, then shrugged. "He had seniority over Carter." _Besides, she had enough to do keeping the geek squad from blowing up the planet_, he added mentally. Instead, he said, "Aside from that, she already had SG-1 to lead and the science department to run. It wasn't fair to add on another responsibility."

"Jack, you and I both know we need personalities opposite our own to keep us on the right track."

Jack was unable to control his need to fidget once again. "So..." he began.

"Geez, Jack, you didn't commandeer a valuable national resource just to chat about who I have or haven't chosen as my 2IC," Hank scoffed, then sobered. "He's in his office."

"Thanks," Jack answered and tried to look as though he wasn't in a hurry as he made his way to the elevator. Waiting impatiently for it to open and send him to the correct floor, he smiled at the sudden realization that he still felt comfortable here—even though it was no longer his command—his old routines still felt second-nature.

When at long last the doors opened on the level containing the linguistic library and offices, Jack made a beeline for the room which had become a favored meeting ground for SG-1 for a decade, permeated as it was with the very essence of the man who occupied it.

Daniel sat at his desk, head bowed as he was studiously writing something. Content to just watch his friend work for a few minutes, Jack rested a hand on a nearby stack of books. To his surprise, Daniel started at the slight sound.

"Hey… wow, what the hell are you doing here?"

Jack blinked. _That is _so_ not the greeting I was expecting!_ "Nice to see you, too."

"No, no, sorry!" Daniel stuttered, clearly taken off-guard by his own inadvertent phrasing. "I just wasn't expecting to see you."

Inwardly, Jack winced. Telling Daniel he'd come all the way from Washington just to talk would probably cause his friend to suspect a foothold situation or some other impending disaster. "Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood." _Right, lame one, Jack. You think he's gonna fall for that?_ "And I've got a little surprise for Mitchell," he hastily amended, making a little note to surprise _himself_ with a surprise for Mitchell.

Daniel seemed to accept the statement. "Oh, yeah, he really loved the last one: the fact you didn't tell him we were all moving on to different positions…"

_Whoops_. He _had_ forgotten to mention that, hadn't he? "Yeah. Sorry you missed _Daedalus_."

"No, you're not."

Nailed. "You're right, I'm not. Listen, I just had a briefing with Landry about your stuff, and—"

"Yeah," Daniel grimaced.

"Sounds like it could be a problem?"

"Well, we've been up against some pretty bad guys before—"

Jack couldn't help it. "Yeah, not so pretty... Overdressed, yes."

"—in some tough situations—" Daniel tried again.

"That we always won," Jack finished. _They don't call me 'Mr. Positive' for nothin'!_

Apparently, the archaeologist still had a point he was trying to make. "Yeah, but didn't you feel that was because we had someone looking out for us?"

_Well, obviously _you _did, Danny, otherwise you wouldn't be here, and therefore none of the rest of us would be, either. Is this 'cause Oma's gone AWOL?_

"I don't think I would say this to anyone else, but for the first time, I'm scared."

Stunned by the admission from a man whose inability to talk about himself consistently rivaled even Jack's, the general said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm hungry."

The dark mood was abruptly broken. "Me, too," Daniel grinned.

_Score one for Team O'Neill_, Jack smiled to himself, leading the way to the elevator and the commissary.

They rounded the corner from the elevator and Daniel froze in his tracks, staring down the hall. "Nuh-uh," he shook his head, closing his eyes. "What are _you_ still doing here?"

Coming from the opposite end of the hall, the dark-haired woman being escorted by a pair of burly SFs grinned impishly. "I was hungry, Daniel. Surely you won't let me starve, will you?"

"It's an option," the archaeologist answered cheerfully, sounding so genuinely amenable to the thought that the general gave him a double-take.

"You must be Vala," Jack decided after a short moment, offering his hand. "I've heard so much about you. I'm General Jack O'Neill."

She shook it firmly. "Vala Mal Doran," she smiled. "I've heard practically _nothing _about you… leastwise, not from Daniel, all he talks about are old, dead things and scratched-up rocks."

The heated glare from Daniel silenced his first reply before it could even form on his lips. "But you _have_ heard of me," he pointed out, instead. From the expression which now covered the archaeologist's face, there was going to be some "Captain Sparrow" teasing in Jack's near future.

_Whoops._ He never should have let Daniel rent that film.

"Of course. What Goa'uld with galactic domination goals _hasn't_ heard of the infamous Tau'ri pain in the _mikta_?"

"You know, Daniel, you never did tell me what that word means."

Daniel cleared his throat, ignoring him. "Ah, when I first told you who we were aboard the _Prometheus_, you said you'd never heard of the Tau'ri."

Vala rolled her eyes. "I was being dismissive, Daniel, not honest."

"And that 'dishonest' part is different from normal… how?"

"Well, I _could_ have lied to you and told you I wanted to sell your ship to the highest bidder."

"And that's _not_ what you were going to do?"

"I was _going_ to sell it to the highest bidder, then steal it _back_," she corrected with a smirk. "Big difference."

"Oh, yeah. Huge."

_Oh, Dannyboy, I have taught you well, _Jack grinned inwardly, imagining the younger man as his Padawan of sarcasm. "Hate to break up the reunion, kids, but I'm hungry."

"Me too!" Vala enthused. "What are you buying me for dinner, Daniel? Something slaved over for hours by your world's finest chefs and served with an expensive intoxicant?"

"No, something ignored for hours by unenthusiastic cooks and served with a cheap stimulant," he corrected.

"Sounds romantic! Will there be candlelight and music?"

"Overhead fluorescents and the sound of clattering dishes."

"Marvelous! What are we waiting for?"

Daniel leaned toward Jack and muttered, "So much for having a quiet conversation over dinner."

The general's eyebrows rose. _Who said she had to join us? You're not putting up much of a fight, Daniel._ "After you," he offered.

"I like you, Jack," Vala smiled as she sashayed through the cafeteria doors, somehow managing to make blue BDUs look far more enticing than they had any right to be. "You—unlike some—know how to treat a girl like a lady."

"'Lady'?" Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not _even_ gonna touch that," he muttered, following right behind her. Jack exchanged a shrug with the two bemused SFs before trailing after the pair. He didn't miss the twin sighs of relief escaping the guards as they took up positions beside the door, temporarily relinquishing their charge to the care of the not-as-reluctant-as-one-might-think archaeologist.

"Vala! Jackson!" exclaimed the voice of the excitable Cameron Mitchell. The colonel was standing at the end of the food line, having just prepared himself a tray featuring mashed potatoes, baby carrots, green beans, and what the mess hall staff _called_ meatloaf, but could just as easily have been ground-up cardboard for all its taste.

"Feeling brave, Mitchell? The mystery meat's a little too daring for me," Jack grinned.

The younger officer blinked. "What? Oh, General! I didn't see you come in, sir."

"That much is obvious," Vala remarked to Daniel out of the corner of her mouth. "So, what's good?"

"Define 'good'," Jack smirked, grabbing a tray and heading for the cold cuts and bread. Sandwiches, at least, were usually safe.

"Well, so long as you stay away from anything that isn't immediately recognizable as a grain, vegetable, or animal, you should be okay," Daniel answered, grabbing a bowl of salad and putting it on her tray, then getting one for himself. On down the way they went, the archaeologist filling up two trays with the same foods before finishing each off with a serving of dessert.

"_Green_ Jell-O?" Jack asked, when they put their trays down. "They going for a little variety now?"

"They stopped serving the blue stuff when Sam left," Daniel explained.

"This Jell-O comes in other colors?" Vala asked, poking at the quivering gelatin with one finger.

"Oodles," the general answered. "Red, blue, yellow, purple… a whole freakin' rainbow of jiggly stuff."

"Interesting," she remarked, grabbing her spoon and digging into the Jell-O.

Mitchell had already taken a bite from his meatloaf and was now vigorously shaking a bottle of ketchup in preparation to doctor the rest. "What brings you to the SGC, sir?"

"He's got a surprise for you," Daniel answered, swallowing down a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Hey, Jack, looks like Landry's keeping enough russets in the kitchen."

"Show off," Jack muttered. Catching the curious expressions from the table's other two occupants, he shook his head. "Never mind."

"Was this Jell-O a grain, vegetable, or animal?" Vala asked, scraping the last green bits out of the bottom of the bowl.

Daniel grimaced. "Uh, trust me, it's far safer if you don't know," he answered. Surprisingly, she pulled a face but seemed to agree before diving into her salad.

Jack finally broke the moment of silence by asking, "So, Vala, where to now?"

"Well, since Daniel isn't going to let me have any of the treasure I worked so hard to get, I guess I'll have to go back to begging on the filthy streets of the dirtiest worlds of the Lucian Alliance," she replied, trying for forlorn despair but only coming up with laughable insincerity.

"Yeah, right," Daniel and Cameron chorused.

"You're probably already plotting your next get-rich-quick scheme," Daniel scoffed.

She dropped her fork. "I wouldn't _have_ to if _you_ hadn't ruined the last two," she shot back.

"And whose fault is that?" he retorted. "_I_ didn't tell you to start grabbing stuff at Avalon or take the trip to the Alteran homeworld _or _try to steal the _Prometheus_."

"It's not _my_ fault your people made it so ridiculously easy to commandeer."

"You were wearing armor impervious to our weapons."

"Yet _you_ were able to take me out."

"After you'd removed the helmet and gloves!"

_Is this what Daniel and I used to sound like?_ Jack wondered, eyebrows shooting to his hairline as the bickering was traded back and forth. He couldn't withhold a grin at the thought.

"What are you smiling about?" Daniel grumped.

"I'm just trying to find out what you _don't_ like about her," he answered at length. "She looks great, fights dirty, loves Jell-O, and drives you nuts just by being in the same room. I'm thinkin' she's perfect for you, Daniel."

Vala looked immensely pleased. "See? And I'd say what we just went through is about as close as anyone can get to burning in Hell and living, so you've gotten that out of the way." She flashed her teeth at the stunned archaeologist. "Let's make babies!"

"No, no, he's been to Hell already," Jack corrected. "We didn't like the neighbors, so we blew it to smithereens."

"Netu, right," Mitchell nodded, catching on quickly. "Well, Jackson, you _did_ say havin' kids with her was right between 'shooting yourself' and 'burning in Hell'."

"You've never shot yourself that I can think of," the general finished, "but I think we've come to the conclusion that the whole 'burning' thing has been taken care of." He and Mitchell shared a sly grin before returning their attention to the speechless linguist.

Daniel's mouth hung open, his jaw working soundlessly for a minute or two before Jack's gentle reminder of 'flies' kicked his brain into gear again, and his teeth shut with an audible click. "I said 'shooting myself' _first_," he managed lamely, unable to come up with any better reply.

"Your chambers or mine?" Vala returned, batting her eyes at him.

"Shouldn't you be off-world by now?"

"I was hungry," she repeated, grabbing his neglected bowl of Jell-O and scooping up another spoonful.

"We can see _that_," Mitchell commented.

Jack saw something _else_, too. Daniel was the rare type of person who could make himself immediately likeable and approachable to almost anyone, but still managed to maintain a cordial distance. Only with his closest friends did he allow the gap to close, though he never opened himself completely to anyone, not even Jack himself.

With Vala, Daniel allowed almost the same level of casual familiarity he had with Carter. Obviously, the astrophysicist was far too much of a big sister to Daniel to _ever_ taunt him in the way that the thief was doing now, but Jack remembered a time in this same cafeteria when he'd witnessed Carter do _exactly_ what Vala had just done. Like before, Daniel didn't protest the sudden theft of his Jell-O, but raised his overly-expressive eyebrows in Jack's direction as though saying, "Can you _believe_ what she just did?" And the way he argued with her? Well, even the general had already seen the similarity in their interactions and his own with Daniel, and while he couldn't be certain, Jack felt fairly confident the bickering pair shared an admiration for one another's survival instincts, not at all unlike the underlying respect which formed the foundation of Daniel's and Teal'c's otherwise unlikely friendship.

_He actually _likes_ her!_

The sudden realization wasn't earth-moving, though it was significant, and though the archaeologist probably didn't entertain any romantic intentions toward the vexing woman, something in their shared time trapped in a distant galaxy had certainly brought them closer to one another.

_Dollars to donuts, burning to death together has something to do with it_, he mused, taking a sip of his turpentine-like coffee. After all, the shared experience of having battled and defeated Ra had started the transition from strangers to closest confidants for two drastically different men.

"Shouldn't the two of you get going?" Daniel suddenly asked, derailing Jack's uncharacteristic train of thought. He had that dodgy look to his face like he was up to something. "The Alpha Site is about two hours ahead of us, but daylight's fading fast."

"What's at the Alpha Site?" Mitchell asked, scraping up the last of his tapioca pudding.

"Lots of things," Jack answered automatically. "Computers, scientists, occasionally a Tok'ra or Jaffa, big honkin' guns and…" He trailed off, realizing what the ever-lovin' sneaky bast—er, best friend had been alluding to in his oh-so-casual mention of the offworld base. "And your surprise," he finished. _Danny, I _so_ owe you one._ What better way to get Mitchell back in the saddle than to take him for a joy-ride in an F-302?

"Well, hopefully it's not as big a surprise as the _last_ one you gave me," Mitchell answered, then added, "sir."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Daniel smirking. "Yeah, well… you'll like this one, I promise."

"Have them back by midnight, Jack," the archaeologist began. "Mind your curfew, don't scratch the paint job…"

_I may have taught him _too_ well_, the general lamented. It was past time to remind Daniel who the master was. "I can do that," he nodded, gathering his hat and jacket again. "It was nice to meet you, Vala. Now that you've met Danny's folks, when are we gonna meet yours? I hate it when the in-laws never meet 'til the wedding."

* * *

Author's Note: Lordy, how I wish I could write these stories as quickly as I think of them... Unfortunately, these days I am one _very_ busy woman! 

I do get my emails at work though :) Drop me a line!

March update: this series has been 'completed' in favor of the third section, found on FFnet as 'The Thief and the Archaeologist'.


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